Where the hell were they going?
Suddenly, the passage opened out and they came to an abrupt halt.
Claymore knelt down and pushed his hand into a large crevice in the wall, which made a few large slates slide out. The steward then pulled something that Hugh couldn’t quite see that was within the wall, which revealed a large hidden trap door, whipping open in the cold night air.
Incredible! If Hugh hadn’t been feeling as apprehensive and tense as he was, he might have appreciated the ingenuity of a secret trap door hidden so cleverly.
He continued to watch as Eleanor and the steward crouched down and crawled through the opening and into another space beyond.
Hugh waited a moment before he followed them with caution. He too crouched down, and took in a deep breath before sneaking a furtive look and finding that the space they had entered was actually outside. The steward was opening what appeared to be a rusty iron gate, covered in moss. Once he had achieved this, they were outside in the middle of god knows where!
Hugh followed them in the shadows, making sure he was well hidden, and watched in amazement. Eleanor and Claymore were now walking through the damp woodlands far from Tallany. Remarkably, the secret tunnels underneath the castle, which had seemed so endless, had bypassed the castle, the moat and even the village keep! They were now at the edge of nowhere, deep in the woodland.
Having an ominous feeling about what he was about to discover, Hugh continued trailing his wife and the steward.
After a long time in pursuit of them, weaving around ancient trees casting shadows in the clearings, Hugh watched as they reached what appeared to be a single dilapidated wooden hut. He waited in heightened anticipation to find out what they were to do next.
He hid behind a boulder that sloped above them, with the moonlight offering the only glimmer of visibility in an otherwise dark night. He peered over it and watched as Eleanor entered the small building alone, whilst Claymore stood outside, evidently on the lookout.
Hugh rubbed his eyes, trying hard not to look away in case he missed something. What was she doing and who was she meeting? Lord, but it was killing him, waiting to find out.
He wiped away the beads of sweat collated on his brow, his heart pounding ferociously as he waited, uneasiness mounting.
Damn and blast, Eleanor! What have you got yourself into?
He couldn’t move closer to the hut in case Claymore spotted him, and it was imperative for Hugh that he was not to be discovered. He had to know the truth of Eleanor’s strange behaviour tonight, however much he dreaded it, and the only way was to remain in hiding.
At last heard the door of the hut creak open and footsteps on the beaten path. Eleanor...? But, no, the silhouette that had come to meet Claymore was that of a man—or rather a boy.
And not just any boy.
The moonlight shed enough light for Hugh to make him out.
It was Le Renard—the outlaw who had outwitted him only just a few days ago, in his signature mask and fur-trimmed hood!
Chapter Twelve
Hugh felt as though someone had punched the air out of him. How was this possible? How?
He ground his teeth together and clenched his fists, his knuckles white. He just couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe what he had discovered on this terrible evening. But there was no mistaking it.
Eleanor and Le Renard...
It made his blood boil, just thinking about the implications of this night. All this time his wife had evidently been scheming with the outlaw. His wife! He felt like hitting something—or better still someone. The whole thing seemed unbelievable.
Hugh narrowed his gaze at the two figures, Claymore and The Fox, striding together. The steward mounted a horse that had been tethered somewhere, hidden from visibility, and waited for Le Renard, with his own horse, and then they galloped off, deep into the woods.
Hugh knew he should give the pair of traitors chase and find out where the outlaws were hiding. But he couldn’t move—couldn’t think beyond Eleanor’s treachery. He let Le Renard and Claymore go—not that he had the means to follow them anyway.
Eleanor, his wife and Le Renard...
Dear God!
It stood to reason that she must be the traitor he sought. It was Eleanor who had passed on information to The Fox and his outlaws. And it was Eleanor who had worked against him from the very start...
What a fool he had been. If he had paid more attention, mayhap, none of this would be such a bitter shock now, but he had allowed himself to get close to her. He’d liked her, damn it!
He still liked her...
God, but he should shake himself out of such futile emotions. When he thought of all the nights of delicious intimacies they had recently shared...
Cold fury filled his veins at the thought of her absolute treachery.
Hell’s teeth! How could she do this?
It made him sick to the stomach when he thought about that first night of incredible passion... That night after the outlaws and her friend Le Renard had thwarted him and stolen the Crown’s silver. And it was all because of Eleanor’s deceit.
Why? He wanted to scream at her.
‘My castle, my lands and my wealth may now be yours—even my body—but my heart will never be.’
Those ominous words that Eleanor had uttered on their wedding night—the night that had never happened—seemed so full of foreboding now. Had she already given her heart to Le Renard—that man-boy? He didn’t know and didn’t care—or rather didn’t want to care.
He thought of Eleanor as she had lain in his arms, responding to his kisses, coming undone. Had everything they’d shared been an act? Had everything she’d said been a lie? She had been so receptive to his touch and his kisses—but had that been a lie as well?
Lord, his stomach was going to empty itself.
Eleanor had come to him that night, after the outlaws
